


but I can see us lost in the memory

by lahcys



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, root is alive but we all know that, some ptsd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:00:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25937797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lahcys/pseuds/lahcys
Summary: “you still get lost sometimes.”
Relationships: Root | Samantha Groves/Sameen Shaw
Comments: 7
Kudos: 82





	but I can see us lost in the memory

**Author's Note:**

> one of those ideas that just won't get out of your head until you write it
> 
> the title is from august by taylor swift

You wake up with a start. 

It’s nothing new, ever since you escaped Samaritan, you’ve gotten used to the nightmares. Doesn’t mean they don’t annoy the shit out of you. 

On instinct, you reach for the other side of the bed.

When you find it cold, you still.

You remember. 

(You curse yourself for forgetting.) 

The rain. The police sirens. Reese’s nod filled with emotions you weren’t ever gonna feel anyway. 

(You tried to mourn her, you really tried. You know Root would love you for it no matter what. Still, it feels like you failed.)

You try to get the memory of Root out of your head. The pit in your stomach that you get every time you think about her isn’t gonna help you fall back asleep. 

That pit. You think it’s grief or heartache, or something in between. You don’t know what to call it, but either way, you hate it. Hate her for making you _feel_ this way.

(No, you don’t. You could never. That’s the problem.) 

You try to clear your head with more effort this time. 

It almost works when you suddenly hear a sound from outside your bedroom. 

Something that sounds like glasses clattering. 

You grab your gun and slowly, quietly open the door to the living room/kitchen/entryway. 

(Your new safehouse reminds you a lot of your old apartment, from before Samaritan, that’s why you chose to stay here.

After Samaritan’s fall, after Root… You needed a new place to stay. Somewhere that wasn’t there.

You went back to the safehouse you and Root stayed at once. You stayed for about five minutes and never returned.)

There’s a figure standing by the sink. You can’t really make them out, it’s too dark. 

When you turn on the light, everything around you stops. 

You know you can still be out of it sometimes, but you also know what you’re seeing right now.

It’s Root. Unmistakeably Root. 

When the light starts burning, Root glances over her shoulder for only a second. 

“Oh, hey sweetie. I hope I didn’t wake you, I was just getting some water.” 

She doesn’t notice the gun you’re still pointing at her. 

When you don’t say anything back, she looks back at you again.

She sees the gun this time. 

Sees that you’re completely frozen in place.

“Sameen, are you okay?” She asks cautiously. 

Root doesn’t seem fazed by the gun in her face as she walks towards you.

(When was she ever fazed by a gun pointing at her?) 

“You died,” you manage to mumble out. 

You’re searching your memory extensively. There are so many memories, real and fake, you still struggle trying to figure out which is which. But you’re sure, so sure, that you remember Root dying. You remember when Reese told you without any words (none were needed), you remember Fusco’s face after he came back from the morgue, you remember the death report you eventually convinced the machine to show you, you remember every detail, every part of her body that got hurt, everything the EMT’s did to try and save her, you remember how much pain she must have been going through before she died. 

You are never going to forget. 

Root is right in front of you now, looking at you intensely. 

“Yes, I did,” she starts carefully, eyes not wavering from yours, “remember?”

Then she starts the mantra you remember so well. (Do you?)

“It’s been ninety-three days since you escaped Samaritan. Eighty-six since you found me again. Then a week later, seventy-one days ago, I had to fake my death, we wouldn’t have won otherwise, remember? Fifty-one days ago, I came back. We’ve been staying here ever since. That’s real, Sameen.” 

She slowly takes the gun out of your hand, and you let her, focusing on her words.

You remember a phone call, getting yanked into an alley, kissing Root and punching her, waking up beside her again and again, walking into a smoky kitchen smelling like fire after she tried to cook breakfast for you. 

She says those memories are real. 

You believe her. 

You let her take your hand and lead you back to the bedroom.

“Come on, sweetie, let’s go back to bed,” she says softly.

* * *

You lay awake next to her for another hour, or maybe just a few minutes, your perception of time is something you’re pretty sure you’re never gonna get back.

You try to differentiate the real memories from the fake ones, trying to put your mind back into the reality you’re currently living. 

You fixate on Root the most. Like she acts as some sort of anchor point to your reality. (Like she is your anchor.)

Root in the simulations was always just slightly off. Somehow you could always tell. Somehow you never cared. 

You find Root in your memories and decide if she was real or not. Then you categorize as either fake or real. It’s simple. But it takes all your energy to stay focused. 

You didn’t use to think this much before you met Root. You were perfectly fine before. But now you’re thinking about things like relationships and love, or love-adjacent. 

“Go to sleep, Sameen,” Root suddenly whispers, her eyes still closed.

You didn’t realize she was still awake. 

“I can hear you thinking,” she says with a smile, opening her eyes. 

She turns on her side to face you. You do the same.

For a moment, you just look at her. 

Then you say it. You’re not sure why you do. It’s not like emotional communication is your strong suit.

But a lot of things have changed. 

You’ve changed. 

And you can’t just ignore it.

“How can you just go sleep like nothing is wrong after this?” You ask bluntly.

She doesn’t say anything, just looks at you, like the idea of not being okay is the most bewildering idea ever. 

“Root, I just literally forgot you were alive. How are you so okay with that?” You blurt out. You know she happily puts up with a lot from you. (If she knew you thought like that, she would never stop telling you how wrong you are. Still.) But this feels different. 

“You remember now, don’t you?” She says while sliding her arm over your waist, trying to lighten the mood, “Or should I try to help you remember a little bit more?” 

“That’s not the point,” you bite back, “it’s never supposed to happen.” 

When she realizes how serious you are, the look in her eyes goes from seductive to sincere.

“Sameen, what you went through… No one should ever have to go through that, ever. Of course, it messed you up a little. So, who cares if you sometimes glitch a little? It doesn’t mean that, I don’t know, you don’t deserve to be happy, or whatever it is you’re telling yourself.” 

She sounds so certain of her words. 

(Sometimes you do still feel like she deserves better than you, that she deserves someone who could love her in the way she loves you. The one time you voiced this thought, she got angry at you. Like she never did before. “You died a thousand times for me! How could I ever deserve better than that! I don’t need you to feel some grand thing that they talk about in movies, Sameen, I just need you.” You never forgot her words. Most of the time you believe them.) 

You don’t really give a response to that, just grumble something that sounds a lot like “I guess you’re not wrong.” 

Root understands anyway.

She always does.

“Just sleep, Sameen,” she tells you again, moving her body closer to yours. 

You wouldn’t ever admit it out loud, but you got to like physical contact while you were sleeping. Sleeping and dreaming often disorientate you, as the last hour so clearly showed again, and having Root within touching distance has a grounding effect on you. 

You let her wrap her arms around you, you let her take your hand in hers. You focus on her breathing to calm your own. It works. 

The last thing you remember before falling asleep was Root’s heart beating under your hand that wasn’t holding hers.

**Author's Note:**

> also im @lahcys on insta and @mihkaelscn on tumblr


End file.
